


Sleepover

by keylimepie



Series: Charlotte 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Parenthood, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: Sam is still getting used to parenting when Charlotte has a nightmare. How will he handle it?





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandaruler1897](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandaruler1897/gifts).



> From a suggestion made by Pandaruler1897, hope you like it!

Sam had never been much of a sound sleeper, but with Gabriel by his side these last few years, and now Melanie added into the mix just a few months go, that had improved. There was always someone warm to snuggle up against, always at least a goodnight kiss or two, and more often than not, some pre-sleep sex to wear him out and lull him to sleep in the best way possible. Now that he was used to that, suddenly being the only one in bed for an entire weekend was making sleep nearly impossible. 

As Sam laid in the dark, enduring hour after hour of fitful dozing and wondering if he should just give up and wander out to the library, he heard a tiny choking, whimpering sound. He sat up and tossed the covers to the side. Bare feet padding on the cold floors, he stepped into the hallway and headed toward Charlotte’s room at the other end. 

The door was open a crack, and light from her night light spilled into the hallway. Sam pushed the door the rest of the way open and peeked in. 

The room was bright and cheery; Melanie had insisted on repainting and hanging up decorations when they had relocated here, and it looked very much the same as her room had in Melanie’s house. The walls were a pale pink, the ceiling light blue with fluffy white clouds. Posters were scattered on the walls. Favorite cartoon characters and cute animals surrounded the bed on the wall opposite the door. Another wall held colorful educational posters: an alphabet chart, numbers to 100, how to tell time, birds of North America, and butterfly species. Over the desk in the corner were framed family photos: Melanie squatting next to a toddler Charlotte in her stroller on a hot summer day, both with popsicles, Melanie’s parents holding a very small infant Charlotte between them, Charlotte and Bobby Singer petting a goat at a petting zoo, and Charlotte standing at the top of a slide on a plastic play structure with some children Sam didn’t know - friends they’d left behind, probably. 

The four poster bed was covered with a thick comforter printed with cartoon ponies and draped with soft, filmy pastel fabric between the posts. When Sam had tucked Charlotte in earlier, he’d smoothed the covers down over her, but the comforter was now tossed to the side, the sheet twisted around her. Charlotte was tossing around, flailing her arms and whimpering. Sweaty strands of blonde hair clung to her face. Pumpkin, usually sprawled out at her side, had fled the bed entirely and sat atop the dresser in a pile of dress-up clothes, staring scornfully at the child as he licked his fuzzy orange belly. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said anxiously, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Shhh, Lottie, it’s okay,” 

“They won’t _stop_ ” she said very clearly, angrily. “Won’t let me. Let me stop it.” 

Sam sighed. “You can stop it, baby. They’re gone and they can’t… can’t hurt you.” 

“‘M gonna be so strong. They- they promised.” She twisted around and kicked her leg. 

“You want... to be strong?” Sam asked. He tightened his hand on her shoulder, unsure if he should wake her entirely or let the nightmare continue - he understood all too well the need to let one’s brain replay these things and work through it. He felt the rush of anger again that at the age of five Charlotte already had so much trauma to process, and he stuffed it down with the determination that that would be the last of it for her. 

“But it’s so bad. So bad. And I can be the strongest and the fastest and No! Mommy, no, Mommy won’t like- won’t like me- I miss her. I miss, want to go home, want Mommy.” She hitched a sob and curled onto her side, curling towards him. “No more blood.” 

“Shh, sweetie. It’s okay.” Sam stroked her hair softly. “Mommy’s not here right now but I’ve got you. Daddy’s… Daddy’s here.” The word still felt strange on his tongue, the feeling of awe and confusion every time he considered it too closely. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” That, at least, he felt strongly convinced of. 

Charlotte sniffled, inhaling deeply as consciousness overtook her. “D-Daddy?” She scooched towards him, grabbing his t-shirt in her little fist, folding herself into his side. “What- why- ?” 

“You were having a bad dream, I think,” he said as she climbed into his lap and he curled an arm around her in a tight hug. “Do you remember?” 

“Nope,” she said, too quickly. “Where’s Mommy? Oh. Oh, that’s right. Her ‘n Gabe are gone.” 

“Yep, still at the history conference. Remember, they called at bedtime?” 

“Yeah, yeah. And Dean ‘n Cas are working a caaaase, and you and me are allllll alone,” she drawled tiredly. “Aren’t you lonely too? You don’t have anybody to say ‘look at this newspaper thing’ and ‘oh yay let’s watch the stupid TV shows with the shooting’ and ‘hey let’s eat all the cookies now she’s in bed’.” 

“I- I don’t do that!” Sam protested. 

“Mommy does,” Charlotte said. “At the old house where Mr. Chuck guy rents it now and writes books. Sometimes if I hafta get out of bed and come downstairs, she is definitely having cookies. With wine. Which is dumb because I don’t even think you can dip cookies in that stuff.” 

Sam snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of lonely. I’m not used to having no one to talk to. But still, you should be sleeping, lovey. Not keeping me company.” 

“I think you should have a sleepover with me. There are lots of pillows and you can snuggle with Mister Quackers.” The stuffed duck was currently occupying the pillows on the other side of the double bed. 

“I don’t... “ he hesitated for a moment, scratching his head. “I mean, I’ll stay in here if you like. If- if you want me to.” 

Charlotte nodded, and crawled back under the covers. She patted the pillow next to her, and Sam laid down and shifted the covers over himself, moving Mr Quackers gingerly to the side. 

This was new. He’d learned how to put her to bed; the whole routine from bathtime to brushing teeth to reading a story to the kiss on the forehead. Most of the time that was the extent of it. Sometimes if she wasn’t settling well or she woke up in the night like this, Melanie ended up lying down with her. A few times he’d found them still sleeping like that in the morning. Sam had never been a part of that, though. Now he started to feel guilty. Had he been slacking? He’d wanted to be a good father but he didn’t even know how, and it all seemed so daunting. He laid on his side and stared at the tiny human next to him and a wave of fear washed over him - not the usual sort of life-threatening fear that came with his job, but a prickling anxiety that he had blundered into a task that he was not equipped for and that he might fail at this. 

Charlotte laid on her back, her arms placed carefully over the blanket, her eyes closed and her face peaceful. Sam thought she had drifted off to sleep again, but a few minutes later she turned to him and studied his face. “When you were little, did you get scared?” 

“I did, yeah. A lot, actually. It’s perfectly normal, and it’s okay.” 

“What did you do when you were scared?” 

“Well, uh… well, I had Dean. I mean, he took care of me so I always had him when I needed someone. But also, I grew up, and… growing up you just… I guess you learn that even when things are scary, you can face them.” He blinked away tears. “You are so strong, Charlotte. So, so brave. You just have to let yourself believe that.” 

“Can you be scared and strong at the same time?” she whispered. 

“Absolutely,” he said. “Feeling scared can kind of make you stronger.” 

She nodded. “I thought when I was scared it meant I was a stupid baby. A chicken. Ba-gawk, bawk bawk.” 

“No,” he said with conviction, deciding not to share Dean’s pep talks on the matter from his childhood. “No one should make you feel bad for being scared, or for getting out of a bad situation because you’re scared. Sometimes that’s the smart thing to do. To know when- when you can’t do something you’re scared of, sometimes there’s a good reason.” 

“Like being scared of the Ferris wheel is different from being scared to walk on the edge of the roof?” 

“Yeah, that would be a good example. Ferris wheels might be scary but safe, but walking on the roof is scary because it’s not safe, and no one should be doing it.” He squinted at her suspiciously. 

“Except if you can fly.” 

“Which… you can’t,” he said firmly. She scowled and picked at the blanket. 

“Yeah well that is not fair,” she said. 

“Please sweetheart, promise me that you-” 

“I’m not gonna!” she said. “I’m not a dummy. I know wanting to doesn’t mean I can. You need stupid wings on your back not just flap your arms and jump offa stuff.” She heaved a sigh and curled up on her side. “Can we have French toast at breakfast?” 

“Sure,” Sam agreed. “I think I can manage that.” He made a mental note to Google French toast recipes as soon as he woke up. 

Charlotte made a contented noise and squirmed closer to him until she was pressed into his side. “I love you Daddy,” she breathed. 

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I love you too, Lottie.” He stroked his hand across her hair, and soon the room was silent except for their snoring in tandem. 


End file.
